Bitter Sorrow
by CSIGeekFan
Summary: Sara has left Vegas. Grissom is falling apart. The team tries to get him to talk. GSR and GregSara friendship. Please R
1. Bitter Sorrow

A/N – Here's a nice angsty story that came to me. Sara's relationship with Greg is probably one of the strongest she has. This is post Sara leaving, and how the team reacts and what secrets come out. It's very much GSR and Sara/Greg friendship.

Please R&R.

Disclaimer: CBS owns the characters and their personalities. I'm just sad Jorja Fox has left the show.

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Bitter Sorrow

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"You don't understand," Gil Grissom said to Catherine after she'd gone on a tirade about Sara leaving nothing but pain in her wake.

"What don't I understand?" she demanded.

Grissom sighed and looked around the table at his co-workers. Jim, Nick, Warrick, Greg, and Catherine had decided he needed to get out of the lab for awhile and had dragged him to this club. Rubbing his eyes, Grissom contemplated how much he should say.

"Look, Sara has her reasons for leaving," he replied wearily. "God knows she's experienced enough pain and death in her life."

"But we _all_ have Griss," Nick put in. "We've all walked through the same crime scenes. We have all experienced the pain of this job."

"And you survived," Grissom said pointedly.

With a breath, he finished, "Part of her didn't. And it goes back farther than you can understand."

Choking down the lump in his throat, Grissom contemplated his beer and quietly said, "There's a lot more to Sara's life than you know."

"Like what?" Warrick asked, exasperated by the whole thing and angry at the woman in question for leaving his… friend this way.

Shaking his head, Grissom replied, "It's private – she'd need to tell you. I can't."

In a whisper, Greg said, "Then I will."

Grissom's head snapped up and he stared at the young CSI.

"She told you?" he asked, surprised.

"I already knew," Greg responded.

With a mirthless smile at Grissom's dumbfounded expression, Greg explained, "She didn't remember me until a little over a year ago."

Greg continued, "Remember how my mom wanted more kids? Well, when she found out she couldn't have them, she decided to be a foster parent."

"Hold it," Catherine interjected, "Are you saying Sara was in foster care? In your house?"

"Stop, Greg," Grissom told the young man, then firmly continued, "This isn't a subject up for discussion."

"Why not?" Greg retorted. "She's gone. She's not coming back, and I think I know why."

"Why not talk about it," he continued, slamming his hand on the table.

The aching grief rose in Grissom before he tersely replied, "Fine."

Jim, who had been observing Greg and the grief he'd seen shadow across his face gently said, "You love her a great deal, don't you?"

"Yeah," Greg laughed, bitterly.

Grissom hadn't been expecting this and felt bile start to rise in his throat. He hadn't realized the affect of Sara's leaving on the young man, and was torn between jealousy and anguish.

Looking at Grissom, Greg said, "She was my sister for almost six months. I was just a little kid when this teenage kid with the shadowed eyes moved in. But while other kids didn't want this little kid hanging around, she liked to play with me."

"She would watch cartoons with me, and explain things to me. She's one of the reasons I got into science. It was something she really loved, so she'd show me stuff from her books. She'd read to me," he said.

Shaking his head, he continued, "Man, she was messed up back then."

"So you know what happened," Grissom said, resigned.

"Yeah… the middle of the night screams kind of gave it away," Greg replied.

"Hold it," Catherine said, "what happened?"

"She has a scar that runs across her lower back. It's why she always wears a shirt she can tuck in or one that goes well below her waist," Greg said. "I saw it when she wore a swimsuit… we'd gone San Diego and were swimming at the beach. I was seven."

"That scar was from the buckle end of a belt," Grissom murmured. "She broke a plate."

Warrick and Nick looked at each other, both frozen with shock.

"There's a burn mark on her shoulder," Grissom said, trying to visualize the body of his lover. "It's from a cigarette. She wouldn't let me touch it for months, and cried the first time I kissed it."

"I never saw that one," Greg replied, "but I saw the scar on her leg where the bone went through."

"She was too loud," Grissom whispered.

Looking at the table, Grissom stuttered, "El-eleven bones were broken by the time she was twelve."

"Oh my God," Nick replied, his face turning ash white.

"There was so much worse," Greg said to Nick.

"Does she still have the nightmares?" he asked Grissom.

"They'd stopped by the time she got back from Harvard," Grissom replied, looking directly at Greg. "She didn't have them until after she moved to swing shift, so I wasn't home when she woke up screaming. She woke up alone," he explained, guilt written across his face.

Continuing, he said, "She was back to seeing the knife in her father's chest. She was back to seeing her mother coated in blood. But now she was drowning in that blood, trapped under a car, unable to escape. She told me before she left that she was pinned down, unable to move, and she was tasting the blood she swam in."

Looking down, avoiding the attention of the others, he said, "And there was nothing I could do. She wouldn't talk to anyone. She wouldn't talk to me."

"She said something to me," Greg whispered, "but I didn't hear."

"Maybe if I'd really listened, I would have heard her," Greg lamented. "I could have said something, and maybe she'd still be here."

"No, Greg," Grissom replied. "She needed to leave. She needs to take care of it herself, or it will always be someone rescuing her. I think I get that now."

"She said something to me," Greg quietly confessed.

His eyes pooled when he said, "The other day she talked about being tired of dealing with death… of how the murder rate was going up and there was nothing she could do about it. She talked about being sick of death and being here in Vegas."

"If I'd realized… if I'd really listened…" Greg choked out.

"She would have still left, Greg," Grissom gently told him.

Taking a deep breath and swallowing the sob, Greg nodded.

"I'm worried that she won't be able to figure out where she belongs," Grissom murmured.

Catherine replied, "I'm concerned we'll lose you…"

"That's not going to happen," he responded.

Continuing, Grissom looked at Greg, and said, "I knew you were close… she made sure she checked in on you. I knew you were good friends. And I haven't asked how you are… not once."

Shaking his head, Greg finally gave way to the sobs that had been building up, and laid his head on the table, his shoulders heaving. Catherine went over to Greg and laid a hand on his back, until he quieted, and lifted his flushed face from the table.

"God, I'm sorry about that," he choked. "I think it's been building since she left…"

"If you see her again, what do you think you'll do?" Catherine asked Grissom.

"I don't know," he replied. "I don't know if I'll hold her because I miss her so much… or yell because I'm so angry right now."

"What about you?" he asked Catherine. "What will you say to her?"

"I wish I could say. I was angry before. Now I don't know what to feel. If she'd talked to me, maybe…" Catherine left off.

"Sara has spent her entire life following every rule, because if she didn't follow every rule, she generally got slammed – hard," Gil said to the table at large.

"That's about right," Greg added. "I don't know how many times I've bent or broken rules and gotten away with it."

"Sara and I broke some rules by having a relationship. It scared us both, but it was worth it," Grissom said. "And then Natalie happened, and we both felt exposed."

"Would you have ever told us about your relationship?" Warrick asked.

"Probably," Gil responded, "but I don't know when or how."

With a self-deprecating smile he said, "I realize I'm an emotionally distant person with a tendency to hold back what I'm feeling. I also know I hurt her time and again by not telling her what she means to me."

"I also know she's a passionate person who empathizes too much and gets hurt too much," he continued.

"I should have fired her or forced her into more counseling a long time ago, but part of me needs her near me just to be able to breathe," Grissom admitted.

Looking at Greg, he said, "Yes, I know that makes me selfish. But I didn't know what else to do."

With a genuine smile, Greg replied, "It's okay, Griss. Because I think what you have with her is what's given her the strength just to survive lately. She's been truly happy with you. I realize Sara and I didn't know each other long when we were kids, but I remember the sadness in her eyes… it's faded over time, since we've become friends as adults. I've seen her smile before, but not in the way she has in the last couple of years, mainly when she looks at you."

"Maybe somewhere along the way, she'll find a way to smile on her own," Gil said.

"But will you?" Jim asked.

Sighing, Gil thought back to before Sara… to the emptiness, the vague feeling of something missing, and said, "I might learn to smile, but I don't know if I'll feel complete without her. I think fate or something like it decided that the day I met her."

"We want you to be okay, Gil," Jim told his friend. "We need you to be okay."

"I will," Grissom replied, looking around the table and making probably the most important decision of his life in that instant.

"I'm giving her a year," he told the occupants of the table.

He stunned them when he said, "If she can't come back to Vegas within a year, then I'm going to her."

Finishing his beer, Grissom stood, laid cash for the tab on the table and walked out. For the first time since she left, he had a plan.


	2. First Letter

A/N – Please R&R. I like to know if people are actually liking this. And thanks to those who did. It's the reason I'm continuing it. It was meant to only be a one-shot. I realize the chapter is short, but it was what was rushing through my mind.

Disclaimer: Not mine. CBS owns the characters.

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The first letter arrived a month after she left. He didn't know where she was, or even if she was alone. He'd spent the month, slowly losing his grip, and feeling his heart squeeze harder everyday.

It was waiting on Grissom's desk when he arrived at work. With a trembling hand, he lifted the letter, noticing the Boston postmark. His fingers now shaking, he slowly opened it, and laid the pages side-by-side on his desk.

_Dear Gilbert,_

_Right now I am sitting in a café on the edge of the Harvard campus. I used to come to this place all the time as a student. My text books would be laid out in front of me, as I furiously wrote notes in the margins and in my notebooks. When I look around today, I can see it hasn't changed much. I see these young, happy kids full of dreams all doing the same, and I remember how happy I was during that time of my life. I, too, had been full of dreams._

_I'll be in Boston for awhile. I don't know how long. My Quantum Physics professor is spending time with me. During my stay here, she was my mentor. I don't know how many hours we spent together discussing theoretical mathematics, and how it applies to physics. I felt so alive then, even with the shadows haunting me._

'I said I'll miss you, and I do' _you once wrote to me. The sonnet told me how much. As Emily Bronte wrote, _'Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.'_ I miss you too._

_Love, Sara_

Rubbing a finger over her name, trying to feel her through the text, Grissom sighed. He sat back in his chair, lost in thought, smiling now at the image she had created, and grinned for the first time since she left. He didn't hear the knock on his door.

Poking his head in, Greg said, "Hey Griss… we're waiting on assignments."

Grissom looked up and the grin became a smile. He beckoned the young man into his office, and handed Greg the note, saying, "It's from Sara."

Grabbing the note, Greg immediately smirked, "Gilbert?"

Greg continued to read the note, noticing the subtext, and grinning himself. When he got to the last paragraph, his eyes misted over a bit, as he realized how much she must be hurting, being away from Grissom.

Noticing the change in the young man's face and the sheen in his eyes as Greg handed the letter back, Grissom said, "She needs life. She's trying to find signs of life to re-spark her own."

"I'd be terrified," Greg murmured.

"I would, too," Grissom confessed, then continued, "but it's a good step for her."

Greg looked at Grissom and said, "She wrote you a letter."

Both men grinned.

Grissom stood, placed the letter in his top drawer, and grabbed the day's assignments.

"Tell me a story about her when she was a teenager," Grissom requested, as they exited his office.

By the time they reached the break room, Grissom was all-out laughing as Greg said, "So, my mom comes running into the kitchen to find the source of the explosion – there's seaweed covering the walls, and blender parts are _everywhere_. Suffice it to say, I had a hard time talking my parents into a chemistry set when _I_ was a teenager."

"Hey guys, you seem to be in a good mood," Nick commented.

Warrick, Nick, and Catherine watched Grissom's smile widen, the dullness that had been there before be replaced by subtle happiness.

"I got a letter from Sara."

"Seriously?" Warrick asked.

"That's great," Catherine added. "How is she?"

"She's in Boston," Grissom commented, recalling that at no point had she actually said how she was doing.

"I don't know how she's doing," he continued with a frown.

With an okay nod from Grissom, Greg interjected, "It sounds like she's taking the right steps."

"She's going to be in Boston for awhile," Grissom said.

Frowning, he looked at Catherine.

"I have a question. She specifically said she'd be in Boston for awhile. I don't know… do you think maybe she wants me to come visit her?" Grissom asked.

"Do you have her address?" Catherine asked.

"She didn't include it," Grissom remarked.

Gently, Catherine walked over and laid her hand on his arm, watching that sparkle in his eyes dim just a bit.

"Gil, give her time. I think she'll let you know when she needs you," Catherine told him.

Nodding his head sharply, Grissom took a deep breath, looked around the room, and announced, "I've got assignments…"


	3. Forced Help

A/N – Thanks for the reviews I've gotten. Please keep them coming.

Disclaimer: CBS owns CSI. I'm just writing stuff and borrowing characters.

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It took two weeks for the reverie of her letter to fade, and the second-guessing to begin. He hadn't heard from her since, and he was well into the third week.

_I should have gone to Boston,_ Grissom said to himself, only to quash the idea sternly, and follow it with, _She needs this time alone_.

The volley in his head was fairly constant now, and had been the last couple days.

A man of thoughtful precision, Grissom had become fidgety and distracted to the point that everyone from Ecklie to Hodges had noticed.

Nick had just spent the last few minutes watching his boss absently pick up item after item, without thought or need, before setting it back down. It had started with each assignment slip being mangled, and moved on to two paperweights, a couple paperclips, and a pen, which Grissom was currently spinning around his fingers.

All the while, Grissom sat lost in thought, his expression rapidly shifting from worry to sorrow – back and forth.

"Hey Griss," Nick asked, concerned, "are you okay?"

"Huh?" Grissom replied, being pulled from his thoughts.

Nick gave him a look of concern and said, "Let me take you out for a drink or something after shift."

Shaking his head, Grissom replied, "Thanks, but no."

He picked up the assignment slips, finding them half balled up, and sighed.

Conrad Ecklie stood just outside of Gil Grissom's doorway, and watched the exchange.

On a sigh, he thought, _Something needs to change_, and knocked on Grissom's door.

"Is there something I can do for you Conrad?" Grissom asked.

"Yes, can I speak to you for a few minutes?"

Nick stood and said, "I'll see you in the break room."

Ecklie sat down in the chair Nick had just vacated.

Impatiently, Grissom asked, "What do you want, Conrad?"

"I've been watching what you've been going through for the last couple of weeks," Ecklie informed him. Continuing, he said, "I'm concerned about your mental state."

Grissom sat back in his chair and just stared at Ecklie.

"Excuse me?" he asked of the lab director.

"Look, Gil," Ecklie began sympathetically, "I understand you're worried about Sara, and probably hurting. I'm starting to worry about _you_."

"Well don't," snapped Grissom.

"It's my job," Ecklie retorted. "As such, I'm making a recommendation for you to see a PEAP counselor."

Gil Grissom's face turned red, and he half rose out of his chair, clenching his teeth and seething, "You have no right to do that!"

Expecting this reaction, Ecklie was completely un-phased. Instead, he calmly stood, handed Grissom a form with all the pertinent details, and told him he'd already set up an appointment for eight o'clock the following morning… and he was to take the night off.

"And what if I don't go?" Grissom demanded.

"Then you'll be suspended," Ecklie calmly explained, and walked out of Grissom's office.

Conrad Ecklie walked down the halls of the lab, knowing he was the most hated man in the building. In general, he really didn't care. He had his ambitions, his successes, and his failures. Even though Grissom and his lack of ambition would always be an annoying thorn in his thumb, the lab direct had known the scientist for a long time.

And Conrad Ecklie was worried about him.

Storming down to the break room, still seething, Gil walked in, took one look at his team, and did something no one had ever seen before. He slammed the door as hard as possible.

"Whoa, man!" Warrick exclaimed.

Taking a deep breath, Grissom tried to calm himself down. He achieved at least enough success to be able to say between clenched teeth, "419 at the Bellagio – Warrick and Nick. Trick Roll – Greg. Catherine – paperwork."

Head snapping up, Catherine asked, "How do I end up with the paperwork?"

"I've been ordered to take the shift off – you're in charge," Grissom tersely replied, and stalked out of the room and down the hall – every lab tech watching wide-eyed at his departure.

Stunned, Catherine looked at the others, blew out a breath, and said, "Okay, guys… let's get going."

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Not knowing what to do with his time, and afraid to face the shift alone, Grissom had picked up Hank from the sitter's and gone out to the desert… to _that place_ where Sara had nearly lost her life. As dawn broke, he prepared to take Hank back to the sitter's house, and head into his appointment.

The counselor's office was typical – calming colors in the lobby, what he considered 'fluff' magazines on a small table, and a small desk holding a receptionist.

"I'm Dr. Grissom," he told the receptionist. "I'm here to see Dr. Mason."

"Please have a seat," the receptionist replied, "the doctor will see you momentarily."

For several minutes, Grissom flipped through pages of a magazine, then got up to pace, hating that he was here, and fuming at Conrad Ecklie for doing this to him. As he was about to leave, the closed door to the psychologist's office opened, and a young blond woman came out.

Smiling, she said, "Dr. Grissom? Hello, I'm Dr. Mason. Why don't you come with me?"

Not really having a choice, Grissom followed her into her office.

The room itself was painted a brick red on two prominent adjacent walls, and cream on the rest. Tasteful classic art hung throughout the room.

"Please, have a seat," Dr. Mason directed him to one of two chairs facing each other, about three feet apart.

Grissom sat as directed, and wearily wiped his eyes.

"Dr. Grissom," Dr. Mason began, "Conrad Ecklie wants me to speak to you. He's worried about you."

Blowing out a breath, he said, "Please, just call me Grissom, Dr. Mason."

"I will, if you will call me Susan," she responded.

He nodded.

"Why don't you tell me what has happened to cause your co-workers to be concerned." Susan prompted.

With a mirthless laugh, Grissom started, "Do you want to know about holding the hand of the only person you've ever really loved by the hand and praying to God she just opens her eyes, because it'll kill you if she doesn't? Or would you like to hear about feeling your guts gets pulled out because she has to leave? Better yet, let's talk about feeling useless and pathetic, because you know there's a problem, and there is not a damn thing you can do about it."

"All of them sound like good questions," Susan calmly began, "so let's start with the first. Describe to me what you were feeling when you were holding Sara's hand."

For nearly two minutes, Gil listened to the tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock of a small clock on Susan's desk, wishing time would speed up. He assumed he'd be here for an hour, and didn't want to stay a minute longer if he had to.

Finally, Susan sternly warned, "Grissom, I have to report your level of cooperation to Conrad Ecklie for you to be able to go back to work. You might want to consider that."

On that threat, his voice thick, Grissom said, "I couldn't see anything else. Just her face, covered in blood – battered. I couldn't breathe, because I couldn't see her eyes."

Standing, he began to pace the room, stopping at a window overlooking the business section of Vegas.

"When she opened her eyes, it was the most beautiful sight," he breathed out.

"You love her," Susan said. "I imagine you felt relieved."

With a half-laugh, Grissom sat back down, and shook his head.

"Relieved doesn't describe it," he said. "What I felt was closer to salvation."

Grissom looked at Susan, studying the woman, and decided to turn the tables a bit. He wanted to know if he was dealing with someone who could understand.

"Have you ever been in love?" Grissom found himself asking.

Momentarily flustered, she looked at him, her cheeks flushing pink.

"I'm in love with my husband of over a decade," she replied with a smile.

"Okay," Grissom replied. "One more question – do you believe it's possible to develop a connection with someone within minutes of meeting them – a connection that binds you together for the rest of your life?"

With a grin, Susan replied, "I think most people refer to this as love at first sight… and yes, I do."

Tilting her head to one side, her long hair falling over one side of her face, Susan considered the man in front of her. Finally, she asked, "Is that how it was with the two of you?"

With the first real smile Grissom had given in a long time, he replied, "Yes."

"Then why don't we start there," Susan said. "Tell me how you met, and how you eventually got together. Then we'll go from there."

It was surprising to Grissom how fast the hour went. It was so easy to talk about meeting Sara – this young, bright woman with these amazing eyes. He found himself talking about how from the start he could just feel her if she was anywhere near him – and about how her inquisitive mind challenged him. Susan listened as he talked about asking her to Vegas, and about pushing her away – terrified. He berated himself for not just loving her from the start – when he'd loved her all this time.

"Thank you for sharing, Grissom. It's going to make this process easier," Susan told him.

Grudgingly, he admitted, "It was easier to talk… about Sara, us… than I thought it would be."

"I'd like to see you again tomorrow morning," and Susan penciled his name into the time slot.

With a nod, Grissom just said, "Okay" and left the office.

Ecklie's call to Dr. Mason came just minutes later, where she confirmed that the patient had indeed shown up and cooperated.

If Grissom was intent on being honest with himself, he would have admitted that maybe on some level, it had helped to talk about his Sara. It made him miss her just a little less, and reminded him of what they had.

He found himself actually _wanting_ to talk about their lives together – for the first time since Natalie had taken Sara, he felt like maybe he wasn't helpless.


	4. Second Letter

A/N – Please R&R. The story started out as a one-shot and has kind of taken on a life of its own. I have another story (The Return) that I want to get back to. As long as I am getting responses I'll keep going, though.

A/N 2 – For those who have read Beer Five and Whiskey Four, I'm working on Tequila Three, but it'll be awhile before I get it done.

Disclaimer – Own nothing. Please don't sue me.

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By the end of the week, Grissom had told Dr. Susan Mason all about his relationship with Sara. She listened intently, making the occasional note, never interrupting while he relayed Sara's kidnapping and nearly losing her in the desert, and then while he talked about her departure.

"I can be careless," he murmured, his head leaning against the glass window of her office, gazing blankly outside.

"How so?" Susan asked.

Shaking his head, he sighed, and turned towards her.

"Sara sees the emotion of people. She would see someone hurting and she'd have to point it out to me and remind me of my responsibilities," he explained.

"Can you give me an example?" Susan requested.

"Greg Sanders, one of my CSI's had been nearly beaten to death and in the process ran over this kid and was being sued," Grissom said. "He'd had a particularly brutal case in court one day, and instead of looking at him and paying attention, I snapped at him because I had a headache."

With a half-grin, he said, "Sara didn't have to say much, but she pointed it out to me."

"It sounds like Sara complements you," Susan observed.

Sitting back down in his chair, Grissom asked, "Then do you understand why I can't just…"

"What?" she asked.

"Move on," he whispered, looking down at his hands now clenched on his knees.

Looking at her, he added, "I know some don't understand. They don't get why I can't be the same old Grissom."

"And you can't be the same old Grissom," she concluded for him.

"No, I can't."

"Have you really let yourself grieve?" she asked.

"She's coming back!" Grissom exploded.

Taken aback, Susan watched him stalk around the room before he paused in his usual spot in front of her window.

"You've talked about your experiences – before and after Sara was abducted," Susan said.

Gently, she continued, "It changed both of you – it probably intensified some emotions to the edge. In less than forty eight hours, the two of you lost your privacy, your peace of mind, some faith in yourselves, and most likely any real feeling of safety you'd built together."

"Grissom," Susan implored, "you need to grieve for that loss."

Slowly, he let out a long breath and nodded.

"Okay," he acquiesced, "I think I understand."

Susan smiled at Grissom and said, "Time's up, and today was our last mandatory session. I hope that if you find that you need help, you'll call."

Standing, Gil shook the psychologist's hand.

"It has helped," he said, and left her office – for home and sleep.

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When Gil Grissom arrived in his office that night, he found another letter waiting on his desk. It had been nearly a month since the last. He grabbed Hodges, who had been hovering outside his office and ordered, "Get Greg. Quickly."

Less than a minute passed before Greg came flying into Grissom's office.

"What's wrong?" he asked, worry etched on his face.

Grissom replied by holding up the letter.

With no fanfare, Grissom noted the Florida postmark and opened it.

_Dear Gilbert,_

_I would tell you where I am, but I'm not totally sure. I know I'm in Florida. I just started driving south from Boston until I found this little cottage on the beach. During the day, the sand is so warm, the water beautiful. At night… I don't look at it at night._

_I see children running up and down the beach right now. These same two kids play out here every morning – a young teenage boy and his little sister, I assume. I can hear their laughter all the way in the house. It's nice._

_I went to Disney World yesterday. I didn't ride anything – I just people-watched. All these happy families passed by me, and while part of me smiled, another part wondered what terrible secrets they hid behind the masks they wore._

_Last night I dreamed of the car and the water again. But this time it was _you_ trapped. It terrified me. I woke gasping and crying because I couldn't get to you. I felt so helpless._

_I am going to take a walk on the beach. The sound of the water cresting is almost comforting – funny, considering my dreams._

_I leave you with words from H.W. Longfellow _"It is difficult to know at what moment love begins; it is less difficult to know that it has begun." _I understand and agree – nine years._

_I miss you._

_Love, Sara_

Greg sat patiently while Grissom finished the letter and held it out to him. While Greg read, Grissom pulled together the day's assignments. He sat back and watched the myriad of emotions playing over the younger man's face.

On a sigh, Greg handed the missive back and stood. A sad smile played on his lips and together they walked to the break room.

"Hey guys," Nick muttered absently, half-engrossed in a magazine and waiting for the workday to start.

Warrick played a car-chase came on the TV, and Catherine was reading the latest style magazine.

Clearing his throat, Grissom said, "Sara sent me another letter."

Their heads shot up at once, and everyone watched Grissom, waiting to see how he would react. He'd been so… volatile… lately, that they waited for him to cue how _they_ should react.

Smiling, Grissom relayed the gist of the message.

Looking at Catherine, his smile saddened, "She didn't tell me where she was really."

She walked over, smiling back and laid her hand on his arm.

"She'll let you know when it's time," she reminded him. "Sara will tell you when it's time."

Grissom nodded, put the letter away, and handed out assignments.


	5. Third Letter

A/N – Please R&R. I appreciate those who have been reading this and giving me feedback. I have hope she'll be back soon on the show.

Disclaimer – I don't own the characters or anything, they are the property of CBS.

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For two weeks, Grissom read and re-read the letters Sara sent every time he sat down at his desk. He'd given Greg a key, so from time to time he could also read the missives.

He expected to have another month before her next letter arrived, so he was surprised to walk into his office one day and find a large manila enveloped postmarked New Orleans, with Sara's handwriting gracing it.

Greg was innocently walking down the hall reading a report.

The report went flying when Grissom grabbed his shoulder and yanked him hard into his office.

"Grissom!" Greg yelled, "What the hell!"

It took Greg less than five seconds to notice the envelope in Grissom's hand, and have it confirmed by the huge grin on the older man's face.

"It's only been two weeks," Greg grinned back.

Hodges, who had been walking behind Greg, stopped to pick up the file spread across the hallway, and stopped at Catherine's office.

"Yes, Hodges?" Catherine asked. "What do you want?"

"Greg dropped this in the hall," Hodges explained, "I just thought he might eventually miss it."

"I'm surprised you didn't drop it off with Grissom," Catherine said.

"I didn't want to interrupt them – Grissom and Greg," Hodges told her, then gave her a genuine smile. "Grissom got another letter."

Raising her eyebrows, Catherine looked at her calendar and said, "Two weeks?" and gave him a smile of her own.

Back in Grissom's office, Greg laughed, "Are you planning on staring at it all day or are you going to actually open it?"

At that prompt, Grissom flipped broke the seal of the manila envelope.

Reaching in, Grissom pulled out the letter, then tipped the envelope and poured the rest of the contents on the desk – several bead necklaces, a booklet on the history of haunting in New Orleans, and a tour guide for a graveyard.

Grissom laid out the letter and read.

_Dear Gilbert,_

_I find myself someplace I haven't been since my second year in college. That year, my roommate and I worked multiple jobs to afford a trip south. We took a bus all the way from Boston to New Orleans, and stayed at a youth hostel for Mardi Gras. It was the most fun and the most freedom I think I've ever felt._

_I've been here for several days. So far, I've been down to a few of the places I visited so long ago. I took a tour of a graveyard yesterday. It was interesting, seeing all the above-ground graves and mausoleums, so I included the pamphlet I picked up. I found this booklet of hauntings in New Orleans at a quaint little bookshop in the French Quarter. I thought you would like these._

_The beads are for Greg. I figure of everyone there, he would be the one who'd actually wear them._

_I walked down through areas of New Orleans still hurting from the hurricane. I can't imagine what it must have been like for those who used to be here. It must have been devastating to those who lost their homes and livelihoods. Yet there's a resilience here that is just amazing. These people have had to grieve for so much, yet they march on, rebuilding for the future on the foundation of the past. _

_I've been stopping on nearly every corner to listen to the musicians – young and old, and to watch these kids perform these incredible dance moves. Today, this old man playing his guitar asked me if I needed to play something for him. He handed me his guitar, and I played a simple ballad. Maybe I should start playing the guitar again – I felt happy when I ran my fingers across the strings and played the chords._

_I want to walk the waterfront – see the changes in the landscape. I want to reconcile what _was_ with what _is_. I imagine I'll be leaving here in the next day or two. For the first time since I left, I have an idea of what direction I'm heading – west._

_Emerson once wrote, _'Light is the first of painters. There is no object so foul that intense light will not make it beautiful.' _Please be patient as I find the light._

_I miss you._

_Love, Sara_

When Grissom got done reading the letter, he passed it over to Greg, and looked up to find Catherine, Nick, and Warrick standing in his doorway. He waved them into his office.

Grissom knew the minute Greg hit the part of the letter explaining the beads, because the younger man let out whoop, grabbed the beads, and strung them rapidly around his neck. Grissom just smiled, because Greg managed to never stop reading.

When he finished, Greg smiled, handed the letter back to Grissom and said, "Another good step."

The other three CSI's looked at each other, then at Grissom to explain.

"She's in New Orleans, but she says she's heading west soon," he grinned.

For the first time, he decided to share one of Sara's letters with someone other than Greg. He first passed it to Catherine, who sighed at the end, then Warrick, and finally Nick. While each took their turn reading, the others simply watched some silent communication pass between the two men looking through the items on the desk.

When Ecklie walked into Grissom's office as Nick read through the letter, the first thing he saw was the garish beaded necklaces hanging off of a grinning Greg.

He was about to say, "Sanders, try maintaining at least the minimal dress code," but instead found himself stopped by Grissom.

"Sara sent them to him from New Orleans," Grissom stated.

"So you've heard from her?" Ecklie asked.

Smiling, Gil folded the letter Nick was handing back to him, and placed it in his top drawer with the others.

"Yes," was the only reply Grissom gave.

Ecklie nodded and left Grissom's office and hoped for perhaps the hundredth time since Sara had left that she came back soon. He needed his team back in pique shape – the cases were getting solved, court appearances were fine, but the rhythm that he'd always envied in the graveyard shift was off.

Smiling, Catherine sat down on the couch in Grissom's office, and said, "She sounds like she'd doing better."

Following suit, Warrick sat beside her.

"I never knew she played guitar," Nick said, looking at Grissom.

Shaking his head, Grissom replied, "I didn't either… I know she loves to sing."

Nick laughed, "She doesn't in front of other people though! She told me she sounds like nails on a chalkboard."

Smiling, Grissom softly replied, "Her voice is beautiful. She sings and hums when she reads or needs to concentrate. Sometimes she sings to the dog, when she doesn't think I'm listening."

Shaking his head, Grissom stood up, grabbed the assignments for the night, and began handing them out.

He didn't bother to respond when he handed Catherine her slip and she responded back, "Thanks, _Gilbert_."

Graveyard shift had started.


	6. Last Letter

Greg had stopped off in Grissom's office to read through Sara's letters again before he left shift, when he noticed the large manila envelope sitting prominently in the middle of the desk. Grabbing his cell, he made a call. It had been less than two weeks than the last one.

"Hey Griss," Greg began, grinning into the phone, "there's another letter."

For the first time anyone could remember, Grissom left behind a veritable buffet of bugs on a corpse to head back to the office.

"Just have him transported as-is," he told Sofia. "Bag the hands and feet, though."

Turning to Jim he whispered for his hearing only, "There's a letter from Sara waiting for me."

Jim grinned at him and asked, "Mind if I tag along?"

The two men made it in from the desert crime scene in record time.

When Grissom approached his office, there seemed to be quite a few lab techs milling about, acting busy, but not doing anything in particular. Inside his office, Greg sat facing Grissom's desk, while Catherine, Warrick, and Nick were ensconced on the couch.

Grissom walked in, smiled at the occupants of the room, and took a seat behind his desk, while Jim pulled up another chair.

Picking up the envelope, he noted the Arizona postmark and the bulginess of the package. He opened the seal, reached in, and removed the letter, and then flipped the envelope upside-down to empty the contents on the desk. A recent picture of Sara landed on top, covered in dirt, with a nasty black eye, and laughing. He flipped it over and read _'Baseball can be a real bitch'_ on the back. Grissom found himself grinning at the ponytail that had fallen apart and sat askew, and ran a finger across her face.

"Good picture?" Greg asked, trying to see for himself.

"She's laughing," Grissom replied and handed the picture in question across the desk.

Flattening the letter across his desk he read it aloud. He could almost hear Sara's voice speak each word.

_Dear Gilbert,_

_For the first time since leaving Vegas, I've begun to feel restless. I'm starting to feel like taking the 'safe' road isn't enough. So I have been driving and stopping here and there, trying to see things I may never be back to see again. I've been taking back roads to places most people have never been. _

_My car broke down on a less traveled dirt road in the middle of the New Mexico desert. I hadn't passed a car in ages, and it terrified me. It started raining. I could hear the thunder and see the lightning. I knew I had snacks and plenty of water with me, but I could feel so much drain out of me… it was daylight, but everything was just so dark. I figured I'd have to walk out to find help. Walking alone down that road, dust blowing around me was the hardest thing I think I've ever done on my own. _

_This teenage boy drove past and picked me up. (Don't even _think_ of lecturing me for hitchhiking at this point.) His name is Caleb Roberts and he's the oldest of seven kids. He gave me a lift to his parents' ranch. I stayed with Adam and Hope Roberts and their rather ruckus and amazing family for three days. _

_I'm not sure I ever really understood that people like them existed – nothing but kindness and gratitude. They never seemed to take anything for granted. They never treated me like a guest, but like it was where I was meant to be for that time. I watched their kids go about their chores in the afternoon, intent and serious on doing them right, then let out a battle cry and the play would begin. It was amazing to watch, and sometimes be included. I found out later that Adam had been taking some pictures of the kids and snapped the shot I sent. _

_Gil, I now understand why you told me first baseman should never crowd the plate._

_I've been in Nogales, Arizona for a couple of days, and I'm leaving after I mail this. It was fun to take a side-trip into Mexico and walk around the shops. I'm getting restless again, though. I need to see the Pacific Ocean._

_Included in this letter are a few items – I found the scarf for Catherine in a little shop in Mexico. The keychain with the horse is for Nick – I saw it at this little diner in Beaumont, Texas and thought of him. The glass-encased cockroach is for you._

_Elie Wiesel, a holocaust survivor and Nobel Prize winner once said,_ "I have learned two lessons in my life: first, there are no sufficient literary, psychological, or historical answers to human tragedy, only moral ones. Second, just as despair can come to one another only from other human beings, hope, too, can be given to one only by other human beings." _Hope Roberts' name fits her well._

_I miss you more each day._

_Love, Sara_

_P.S. – Say hello to everyone for me, and tell them… I've always appreciated them, even if I didn't show it._

"She _always_ showed it," Warrick murmured.

"I can't think of a time when something was going on that she didn't step in and try her best to help," added Nick.

Grissom handed the scarf to Catherine.

"It's beautiful," she said, admiring the faint streaks of green intermingled with the blue. When she held it up, the green streaks flashed, and subtle tones between the colors became visible, shimmering.

Nick started laughing when he looked at the keychain. The horse sported a comically goofy grin, and a small piece of metal just underneath said, "Texans Have More Fun".

While the picture was passed from person to person, Grissom read through the letter again, imagining her alone and walking in the desert. He and Hank had spent many nights out in the desert in the spot Sara had been trapped. He'd been trying so hard to imagine what it felt like, trapped and alone as she was… there were times when the moon was low or out at the darkness overwhelmed him. But he had Hank there to keep him company. She'd had no one.

_I wish I was with you,_ he thought. _I wished I'd been with you in the desert_.

Grissom's reverie was interrupted by Jim saying, "She's getting closer to home."

"Hey, Grissom?" asked Wendy from the doorway, Hodges just behind her.

"Yes?"

"Well," she started nervously, only to receive an encouraging nudge from Hodges, "we were wondering how Sara's doing…"

Smiling, Grissom picked up the picture that had been placed back on his desk and gave it to her.

"Can you post this for me?" he asked.

Smiling, Wendy and Hodges walked down the hall, where the picture was placed in the center of the bulleting board.

Grissom looked at Catherine, started smiling, and then laughed in a way no one had heard in a long time.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"I need you to handle things here," he told her. "I'll be out of town for a couple of weeks."

Curious stares met his announcement. They all turned to smiles, though, when Grissom uttered his next words.

"I know where she's going."


	7. Waiting

A/N – This is the last chapter of my story. I hope you enjoyed. Please Read & Review. I'm going to now get back to my other story (that got interrupted by this train of thought). Check out The Return.

Please R&R.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. CBS rules the world.

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Grissom knew where he needed to be – where she would be. He remembered their conversation.

They'd been talking about never being able to get time off together. Gil had felt Sara pulling away from him lately, and he'd made sure to get a night off to spend with her. So they lay in bed together, watching a movie, their dog at the end of the bed.

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"_Maybe we should go on vacation," Sara had suddenly said._

_Deciding to play along, Gil asked, "Where?"_

_She sighed softly, something cheerless darkening in her eyes, alerting him._

"_Hey," he prompted, "if you could go anyplace you wanted, where would you go?"_

"_The Pacific Ocean," she replied._

_Smiling, he responded, "There's an awful lot of places out on the Pacific Ocean."_

_Shyly, she said, "I used to play a game… I'd pick a place on the map, look it up in the Encyclopedia, and close my eyes. I'd imagine myself there."_

"_Did you have a specific town in mind when you picked the ocean?" he asked, now curious._

"_There's a little island off of San Diego called Coronado. There's this beautiful hotel there that's supposed to be haunted," she told him with a grin._

_Laughing, he asked, "Haunted?"_

"_The story is that Kate Morgan was waiting for her estranged husband to return to her, but he didn't. They found her body days later. She's said to still haunt her room," Sara explained, enthusiastically._

_Gil laughed and shook his head before settling into a grin and commented, "Only you would want to stay in a haunted hotel."_

_Smiling, she continued, "I imagine myself sitting out on this terrace overlooking the beach, wearing a flowing dress, and sipping coffee as the sun sets."_

_Since Gil could see her doing just that, his grin turned to a genuine smile._

_With a sigh, she smiled sadly back, and said, "Odds are we'll never be able to get time off at the same time, though."_

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Grissom left Vegas two days after he got her last letter. He'd looked up the hotel and made a reservation. Unfortunately, they didn't take pets, so he had to leave Hank behind. He hadn't expected to have nearly every CSI and lab tech in the building volunteer to watch him.

The drive itself was uneventful, as he crossed over the Mojave desert and down through California. He passed by San Diego, and eventually made it to his destination late at night.

Parking his car, he grabbed his bag, and quickly walked into the lobby of the Hotel Del Coronado.

"Can I help you?" a receptionist asked.

"Yes," he replied, "you have a reservation for Dr. Grissom."

The receptionist clicked on a few keys, pulled out a card key, and had him sign off on some paperwork.

As he signed, he asked, "Is there a Sara Sidle staying here?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't give out that kind of information," she responded.

"Oh, okay…" he started, but then thought to add, "she'd be staying in Kate Morgan's room."

Smiling, the receptionist said, "That would be room 3502, sir."

Muttering to himself, Gil said, "I hope she's checked in already."

As he gathered his things together, the receptionist tapped a few keys, leaned forward, and whispered, "She checked in several hours ago." The receptionist was gifted with a huge smile on his face.

Softly whistling, Gil made his way to his room and settled himself in for the night.

It took every ounce of self-control to not go to her room… to not see her face.

Picking up his cell, he made the call he'd promised.

"Hey, Grissom," Catherine answered.

"I'm here," Grissom replied.

"Good luck, Gil," Catherine said, smiling, and hung up.

Gil got undressed and put on his pajama bottoms. He stepped into the bathroom and really looked at himself in a mirror.

He noticed the thickness of his waist, the graying of his hair.

_God, what does she see in me?_ he asked himself.

Gil finished getting ready, then sat down on the bed. He then stood up, walked around the room again, and sat down again.

Too nervous to do anything else, he settled himself onto the bed, propped up a few pillows, and flipped on the television.

When he finally fell asleep hours later, it was to an infomercial.

He woke late, getting only a fitful sleep, and he had an entire day to get ready, when he really only needed an hour or so. Unfortunately, this gave him a great deal of time to sit around his hotel room and contemplate everything that could go wrong.

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That evening, Gil laid his clothes out on the bed and started getting ready.

It had taken him hours to figure out what he should pack. He really wanted the moment to be perfect. He _needed_ it to be perfect.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he analyzed how he looked, bit by bit. Sara had told him she liked the way the navy blue suit brought out his eyes, so he had coupled it with a pale blue shirt. For a more relaxed look, he left the top button undone, and the jacket unbuttoned.

His hands were nervously shaking as he tied his shoes and left the room.

The walk out to the terrace seemed to take forever. But when he arrived, it was worth the wait.

The terrace was full of people – some in groups, some alone. Laughter and talking filled the air.

He saw her almost instantly.

She sat at a small table at the ocean edge of the terrace, facing away from him. Her hair was longer than before, loose and curly around her shoulders. The breeze coming in from the ocean was cool.

She wore a deep green wrap around her shoulders, over a pale green dress that flowed down her calves. The soft wind made it rustle around her legs, wrapping in and out of them, showing off the shape.

For what felt like eternity, he just stared, the trembling stopped. He smiled.

He soundlessly walked up behind her, and she turned – just enough for him to brush the back of his hand against her cheek, and feel her breath on his fingers.

Standing, she turned to face him fully.

As the first tear pooled, and spilled, Gil gently wiped it away with his thumb, cupping her cheek with his palm.

Silence stood between them, as they watched, gazed, and found each other with their eyes.

He noticed that in place of the anger and disappointment in her eyes, there was something soft and a bit hopeful. Moving his gaze to her lips, he began to notice the shallow breathing, and he ran his thumb over those lips.

"I've missed you," he whispered, before he captured those lips with his own. All thought escaping him, he pulled her close, wrapping one hand into her hair, the other around her waist.

Sara placed her hand on his face, feeling the features, and gasping, pulling away.

"I've missed you, too," she whispered back, smiling. "Come sit with me."

Once settled at the table, the waiter brought coffee.

They held hands, gazing at one another.

"Have you found life again?" Gil asked.

He never expected to see the stunning smile that graced her face – as beautiful as the sunset may be, it was nowhere near as beautiful as her.

"I think maybe I have," she softly replied, once again reaching out to trace her fingers over his face.

"Please take me home."

**The End.**


	8. Prologue

A/N – Because of the responses I've gotten and the requests to show Sara back in Vegas with her team, I've decided to add a prologue for when Sara returns. I hope you like it.

Please R&R. I appreciate the comments. They give me the drive to continue on writing this stuff.

Disclaimer: CBS rules all.

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The drive from California to Vegas took several days, with Sara insisting they take every back road they could find.

"You'll see," she said enthusiastically to Gil. "It's amazing what life is out there, just out of reach unless you're willing to grab it."

It had been so long since he'd seen that shine in her eyes, he would have flown to the moon if she asked.

The first day consisting of holding hands while he drove, and occasionally switching places. Stolen glances became common, and eventually pulling off the road at historical markers was a given. They both needed to hold and be held.

At a place called Salton Sea, they stopped to rest for a moment. He stood behind her as she looked out across the water. His arms wrapped around her as she shivered, and she looked up at him.

"You're smiling more," he commented with a grin of his own.

"I have more reasons to smile," she laughed.

Turning in his embrace, she wrapped her arms around his neck, running a hand into his curly hair, and matched her lips to his. Time stopped for awhile as they simply held, and let the caress heat each other. Slowly, he deepened the kiss, taking it from warmth to blaze, and pulled her tighter.

"Let's find a place to stay for the night," he whispered into her ear.

The next day found them meandering on pavement occasionally, but more often than not wandering on dirt and gravel in his car.

Laughing, he said, "I still can't believe you drove your car into the junkyard and gave it to them."

"It was falling apart, Gil. You've been telling me to get rid of it for nearly a year," she replied.

The car moved on quietly, neither speaking, just touching from time to time, and soft classical music playing in the background. Grissom drove, lost in thought. Sara sat next to him, stealing an occasional glance, and knowing something had to be said.

"I left… everyone," she started, glancing at Gil.

"I'm sorry for the way I left," she continued.

Glancing over, Gil replied, "It hurt me. It hurt everyone that you wouldn't talk to us."

They were driving through Joshua Tree National Forest, and Gil found a lookout, pulled over, and shut off the car.

Shifting in his seat, he said, "It really hurt Greg. He blamed himself for not hearing you."

Her face pale, Sara responded softly, "It's not that I wouldn't talk to you… I couldn't find the words. My emotions were a jumble of shouts echoing in my ears, and I just couldn't hear myself anymore. It was overwhelming in a way I couldn't handle or express."

"I wish you'd said something more about the nightmares - waking and asleep," Gil replied.

"I couldn't," Sara said, smiling sadly, "I couldn't handle them, and I was afraid if I talked about them out loud, I'd shatter. It was bad enough they were in my subconscious… I didn't want them in my conscious self."

"Where do you want to be, Sara?"

"I don't know," she responded, shaking her head. "All I know is I need to be in Vegas – with you and everyone else."

She leaned her head against the car seat and sighed.

"I've never really learned to relate to people. I never really had a family. Then Natalie happened, and I realized I had a family, but it was gone. I made the choice to go to swing shift, and I don't regret it. But the people I could count on weren't in my life anymore," she told him.

"Except Greg," Grissom replied, and then smiled and added, "and when were you going to tell me he was your little brother? It actually explains your relationship pretty well."

"Gil, you need to understand something. I've spent my life with no one to talk to. Sometimes, I don't know what needs to be said. There are these rules about what you share and don't share. Sometimes they confuse me, because I don't know what I can and can't say… so I've learned to say nothing."

"Honey, you can tell me anything and everything," he said, grasping her hand and running his thumb across the sensitive valley of her palm.

"I've told you more than everyone else in my life combined," she solemnly told him. "I just forget to talk sometimes."

"How about we make an agreement," Gil said. "We tell each other everything, whether it hurts or not."

He kissed her palm, and continued, "I know I don't exactly communicate very well myself."

Smiling at him, she leaned to him, and quickly kissed his cheek.

"All right," she said.

"Good," he said. Gil decided to broach a subject that made him nervous… because he didn't know how Sara would react.

"I think maybe you and I should see someone," he said, looking out the windshield, not seeing much of anything.

"A counselor?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied, "a counselor. Someone who can maybe help us talk to each other."

The reaction he got was about the opposite of what he expected.

With a smile, she agreed, "Okay. I think maybe we need it."

His Sara had changed while she was gone.

The third day found them driving through the Mojave Desert, and then near Lake Mead. Sara found a small dirt road leading down to the shore, and asked Gil to pull over.

"We're almost to Vegas," she said.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concern etched on his face.

Smiling, she replied, "I see beautiful water, rocky shorelines, and a cluster of trees right over there." She pointed to the trees down a ways on the shore.

"If I close my eyes, I see kids swimming, their parents sitting on the shore keeping an eye on them. I see boats towing skiers. I see people laughing," she said, turning to look at him.

"I see life," she flatly stated. "I forgot what that was like."

Pulling her into a hug, Gil murmured, "We're almost home. Let's go home."

For the next few days, they stayed in their home. Nick, who had ended up to baby-sitting Hank, dropped him off quietly, not saying a word to Grissom, but giving them the space that they needed.

Sara told him some more of the places she'd visited. Gil told him about the reading the letters. They got an appointment for the same day when Gil called to ask to see Susan. They talked.

Sara told him about the dreams in detail. He told her about the pain of losing her. They both talked about what made them angry… what broke their hearts. Gil paced around the counselor's office, while Sara cried. He watched her eyes occasionally dim, but always come back to life with just a glance in his direction.

Susan listened intently as the couple shared with each other their greatest fears, and finally said, "I have an assignment for you. Call it homework."

The couple looked at each other, then back to the counselor.

"Okay," they replied as one.

"I want the two of you together to write a letter – to the people you work with," she said.

That night, Gil and Sara sat down and wrote.

The letter arrived addressed to 'Graveyard Shift', with their return address noted in the upper left of the envelope.

Greg had a case file in his hand when he passed by Judy's desk.

"Greg," she called out, "I have a letter… I don't know what to do with it."

"Let me take a look," he said, taking the letter she offered.

With a laugh, Greg sprinted down to the break room, yelling along the way, "They sent a letter to us."

It took no time at all for the entire group to ensconce themselves in chairs in the break room. It seemed like everyone was there – from Doc Robbins to Ecklie to every CSI and lab tech in the place.

The room fell silent when Greg ripped open the envelope and read aloud…

_Hey Guys,_

_We wanted to let you know we are back in town. You probably already know this, but we wanted to make it official. _

_For so long, we have been unable to say what we feel – what we really mean. Not just to each other, but to you, as well. We've never told you what your friendship means, so we'll say it now._

_We wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. You have supported us when we needed it, yelled at us when we needed it more. So many times you have given us strength and support, but we've never said thank you. We say it now._

_Thank you from the bottom of our hearts._

_We can't predict what the future will bring, but we're grateful for what we've already been given._

_Jane Howard is quoted with _"Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family: Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one." _We're pretty sure we've found our family._

_We miss you._

_Love, Gil and Sara_

By the end of the letter, everyone was smiling – and stunned that the two quietest people they knew would reveal so much.

"Cool," Greg said, handing the letter to Wendy and asking, "Can you post this for me?"

"Absolutely," she said.

"Why would you be posting our letter?" Sara's voice asked from the doorway.

With a grin, a sprint, and a huge hug, Greg made it over to her and half-lifted her off the ground. Laughing, he spun her around and put her back on her feet.

Answering her question, Gil looked at her sideways and said, "I had her put the picture on the bulletin board."

That's all he got out before they were surrounded by everyone. Catherine elbowed her way in, looked at them and smiled.

"Welcome back, guys," was all she said before she managed to get her arms around both of them at once.

"It's good to have you back, Sara," Warrick softly murmured in her ear. "We may not be much of a family, but we're here for you, okay?"

Jim got to her next. He just held her hand, looked her in the eye and said, "You're made of strong stuff. Most of us wouldn't have the guts to take on the world the way you do."

The next was Nick, who just looked at her, his eyes misting, and pulled her into a hug. Minutes seem to pass before he pulled back, kissed her cheek, and whispered in her ear, "You scared me."

To which she whispered into his ear, "I scared me, too."

For quite some time, Gil and Sara were greeted by each person, and each person drifted back to their posts in the lab. Finally, the only people in the room besides them was Ecklie and Greg.

Ecklie approached Sara with an unreadable expression.

"I never realized how vital each one of you is to the team. Come to my office if and when you are ready to get back on the job. We'll talk about working graveyard," he offered before leaving the room.

Greg finally approached the couple and addressed Sara.

He opened his mouth to speak, only to find himself choking back a sob. Lowering his head, he mumbled, "Welcome home."

Sara pulled him into a tight hug, and murmured, "I'm sorry, Greg. I'm so sorry." Her tears began to streak down her face and she pulled back to find matching tears in hers.

"I don't know how I'll ever make it up to you," she softly said.

"I forgave you with the first letter," Greg replied, giving her a true Greg Sanders grin.

As he left the room, Gil wrapped his arms around Sara and smiled.

They were both thinking the same thing – We're home.


End file.
